


At Home Among the Flowers

by xpunkstylesx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: College, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpunkstylesx/pseuds/xpunkstylesx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry enjoys sunny days on the bright green lawn but Louis prefers sunny days hidden behind his curtains, admiring the happy curly haired boy on the grass</p>
<p>worldlwt AU- Harry lays in the grass most of the day and Louis might watch him contently from his dorm window</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Home Among the Flowers

I slid the curtain open, flinching at the bright light that flooded my small room. I blinked a couple times, adjusting to it before searching for brown curls. And as usual, they were there, among the grass and bright white daisies, writing something in his battered leather journal. I smiled lightly at the familiar sight, setting myself more comfortably on the hard windowsill.

I'd spent afternoons like that, just watching and hoping to get a new angle on the beautiful boy. I would always tell myself I'd get up and go down, sit down next to him and start a conversation, get to know why he always sat among the flowers with the dark leather journal. And today was supposed to be the same, just another afternoon of quiet observations. Yet in the suddenness of a second, everything changed. 

The boy looked up from his journal, squinting through the sunny day until he focused in on me, staring silently from the top floor of my dorm. My palms grew sweaty, a sudden fear clenching my stomach as my mouth ran dry. I didn't know where to look, or how to react, so we sat, staring at each other as my concern grew steadily. Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore and I shut my curtain, sliding down onto the cold floor and bringing my knees to my chest, shame filling me as I replayed what had happened. 

My curtain remained shut, a darkness and chill spreading through my dorm every day, as I was always too scared to open it, terrified that I would see him on the lawn again, staring at me with a knowing grin. Yet the more days that passed the more my itch to look out once again grew, to see if he would still know I was there or if he had forgotten about me or if he had finally found someone to take the spot next to him. I scowled. I didn't want anyone to take that spot because it was mine- I was supposed to sit next to him, to admire him from up close rather than from the seclusion of my bedroom window.

The suddenness of that realization finally made me walk over and yank the curtain open, the sunlight no longer blinding me but showing me a future of hope. I saw him once again, still the same boy that had noticed me so long ago, writing in his journal and waiting for someone to fill that spot next to him. I sunk into the windowsill, relief filling me as I realizing all was not yet lost, that what had transpired between us hadn't shattered any hopeless delusions I held. 

As if on a timer, he looked up once again, a grin spreading on his thin lips, and waved lightly. I froze, not having prepared myself for any kind of interaction, and once again felt the knots in my stomach return with a vivacious persistence. With clammy hands I tried to stop myself from shutting out the light and crawling back under the sheets. Suddenly, he stopped waving, his grin turning into a frown, and he seemed to recoil, unhappy about the rejection of sorts.

My heart nearly broke at the thought that  _I_ had done that to him, caused his beautiful lips to convey such sadness. I forced one hand up, a meager wave eliciting from it. And with just that, his smile returned brighter than before, his hands eagerly gesturing for me to come down, patting the spot next to him. I swallowed, mind in a hurry to try and decided what to do. I was scared, terrified of going down, but couldn't imagine how I would feel if I stayed up here, among my sadness. Slowly, I got up, closing the curtain before making my way downstairs, taking each step with extreme caution, as though the ground would slide out under my feet. My legs where shaking but somehow bringing me down slowly across the entrance hall of my dorm. And suddenly I was outside, among the fresh air and green leaves, and the boy with the leather journal caught my eye, the smile on his lips as honest as anything, a glint in his eye conveying his excitement. 

I could feel my hands shaking, my legs mechanically moving towards him, and I tried to wipe my hands on my dark jeans, anxiety growing the closer I got to him. When I was finally standing over him, he patted the ground once again, inviting me to join him. I obliged, my knees buckling under me as I settled in, latching onto his bright green eyes as he observed my every move. We sat in a silence for a bit, watching each other and waiting for the other to break the stillness of the moment, which he eventually did. 

"I'm Harry, freshman here," He said, sticking out his hand, "You?"

I brought my trembling fingers to his, slowly replying, "Louis. Junior."

I stumbled over my words, amazed that he could get me so nervous over such a simple question on my identity. He smiled again, gesturing to my window before admitting, "I know you've been watching me. I saw you the first day I sat here. I can't believe it's taken so long to finally meet my stalker."

He laughed, as though he'd made the best joke in the world. Yet upon hearing him call me a stalker, my body stiffened, shame coursing through my veins and hitting the back of my throat like bad rum. I shook my head, trying to stand up while explaining myself, "I didn't- I mean, I was just- I wasn't stalking you, and I'm sorry."

I made to go back inside, to the safety of my bed, when he grabbed my hand, holding me back. I tried to shake him off me, knowing my trial had failed, but he was vehement, refusing to let me go. Finally, I obliged, turning back to look at him again, fear gripping me as he spoke, "Don't be sorry, I didn't mean it as a bad thing. It's just not every day that an angel looks out his window for you and I didn't know how to react."

My mouth dropped, officially at a loss for words, the term "angel" bouncing around in my head. He thought I was angel, and my mouth ran away before I could catch it, "I think I was the one who was looking at the angel."

His eyes crinkled, and I sat back down, feeling at home in the most unfamiliar territory I had ever encountered. He suddenly fell at ease, picking up his battered journal and showing me the beautiful thoughts that littered his mind. We spent that day laughing and crying, not quite knowing where we fell with each other, but knowing that it didn't really matter. 

Periodically, when we sit together and count the petals on the daisies or watch the clouds float by, I glance back at my dark window, a shiver running through my spine as I recall that day I had first looked out, first seen the beauty this world could contain. I'm always dazzled by the luck of that moment, by the love it had allowed me to feel. And that's when he'll look at me, asking, "Would you go back?"

And my eyes crinkle, my mouth grins wide as I reply, "Not even for a second," and lean down to kiss the beautiful boy's lips. 


End file.
